Bang Bang
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Emily does something drastic to protect Ian Doyle, and it sends her world into an emotional tailspin. Prentiss/Doyle. Based off a prompt from LittleTayy.


_This is for LittleTayy, based on her prompt, and is a bit delayed. Sorry about that. Hope it was worth the wait. :)  
_

* * *

_"I believe in you_  
_I'll give up everything just to find you_  
_I have to be with you to live, to breathe_  
_You're taking over me"_

_- Taking Over Me, Evanescence_

_"Ian!" Emily hollered his name as loud as she could, but the chaos around them was too much. The cops were getting closer._

_Pierre DuBois's men were firing at them from all angles. She, Ian, Liam and a handful of their men were firing back, and the cops were shouting in bullhorns and firing defensively. This quiet little piece of French countryside had become pure bedlam. _

_Ian rolled, and put his back against one of the SUVs ducking as bullets pounded the metal above his head. Emily fired at the shooters, DuBois's men, and got one of them in the shoulder. Her heartbeat was pulsing loudly through every vein in her body, and sweat was already tickling her brow and the space between her breasts. _

_Emily ducked as fire came her way, and checked the magazine in her 38. Two bullets. There were only two measly bullets left in her clip. She turned to her other side to see Liam directing the guys to get vehicles ready. Already, there were two dead on their side. _

_She turned back to Ian, and her heart jumped instantly into her throat. Emily didn't have time to think, she just lifted her weapon and fired. Bang. Bang. _

_A French policeman fell to the ground. _

Emily leaned over the sink willing her body to stop trembling, and her stomach to stop churning violently. She glanced in the mirror to meet eyes she didn't recognize anymore. It was already fogging up from the hot shower, the steam slowly blotting out her face with grey. Everything was grey.

Her stomach rolled, and she rushed to the toilet. Her fingers gripped the porcelain sides as her body tensed and her throat spasmed, digested food burning her esophagus as it pushed back up. Again. Again. Until she slid onto the floor, struggling to catch her breath.

She had killed a cop.

A cop like herself, like Clyde or Sean or Tsia.

She had killed him.

Still shaking, Emily pushed herself up from the tile floor, and stepped into the shower. She jumped when the too hot water hit her skin, but she made no attempt to make it cooler. She stood for several minutes, inhaling the steam and letting the water turn her skin lobster pink. Then the first sob broke free, and Emily slid to the bottom of the shower stall.

She brought her knees up to her chest, and curled her body up tight. The water continued to pound down on her, sending scalding heat onto her skin. Her tears mingled with the spray, and she couldn't feel the heat from them. She gasped and swallowed and choked on the sobs that wracked her body. Her fingernails sunk into her own skin, and still it wasn't enough.

She had killed a cop.

He had been standing only feet behind Ian, seconds away from firing. Emily had been quicker on the trigger.

Ian lived. The cop didn't.

She hadn't thought much about who it was, just that he was about to kill the man she loved. She had known he was a cop, had seen his uniform before she fired. It hadn't mattered, not when his bullet was aimed at Ian.

Emily picked up the little package of soap the hotel left for them. She lathered it up, and rubbed and scrubbed the foam over her hands. She rinsed them off.

She picked up the soap again, this time lathering up to her elbows, before rubbing and scrubbing, and washing it off. Her hands were shaking so hard she nearly dropped the soap as she picked it up again, Emily lathered her skin up again. And again. And Again.

Sitting on the floor of the shower stall, she scrubbed her whole body clean with the little bar of hotel soap. She fell twice as she maneuvered clumsily, and dropped the soap again and again, but always picked it up and continued scrubbing.

She was still scrubbing when he knocked on the door. "Lauren?"

Emily didn't answer. Lauren wasn't home right now. A cop had killed a cop, and the shock of that had sent Lauren far away in her mind.

He knocked again. "Lauren?"

She continued scrubbing.

Emily heard the door open, but ignored it. It didn't occur to her that she needed to maintain her cover. She just kept scrubbing.

"What the hell?" He said. "Lauren?"

She froze when he pulled the shower curtain open. Stared at him, hands still trembling, eyes red, but vacant. She saw the shock and the fear pass through his eyes.

Ian quickly cranked the water off, and grabbed a towel from the rack. He spoke as he wrapped it around her. "What the bloody hell have you done to yourself, Love?"

"I killed him."

He frowned at her. "You've killed before, Lauren."

"A cop. I killed a cop."

Ian sighed then, and pressed a kiss to her head. Even Lauren and Ian had different views on cops. Lauren had no problem taking down one of their enemies, but she was still well aware that they were the bad guys. She didn't like hurting people who didn't deserve it. Ian just hated anyone who got in his way.

He pulled her up to a standing position, still holding the towel around her body. Lauren still wasn't home. Emily was barely even home. She felt Ian shift his arms, and sweep her up into them. She didn't resist, but instead let her head fall to his shoulder. Ian carried her out of the bathroom, and set her gently on the bed.

Emily watched him remove his boots, watch, and clothes, until he was only in his boxer-briefs. Then he shut the lights out, and crawled into bed beside her, and pulled her against his body.

Ian pressed his lips to hers. "You saved my life today, Love."

"I couldn't…I couldn't let him kill you." The truth of that statement settled in her head, and began to bring her back to herself.

He smiled. "I'm grateful for that."

Emily brought her hand up to his face, and rubbed her thumb along his lips. Her voice was barely more than a whisper when she spoke. "I love you."

"Je t'aime," he said softly.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his, intensifying the kiss when he responded in kind. Then she kicked the towel onto the floor, and molded her naked body against his, resting her head against his chest.

Her mind was still reeling over what she'd done, but Emily felt safe with Ian. In his arms, the conflict in her head quieted, and the turmoil in her gut subsided.

She had killed a cop for Ian Doyle. There was no coming back from that. When that thought scared her, she pressed her body closer to his, inhaling his scent.


End file.
